Jackal Among Snakes

Galamon rode his horse onwards, leaning on its head. He felt the exposed flesh on his torso burn, and now that the archers had perished and deprived him of distraction, he could feel the pain of the sunlight. He tried to focus on the pain to drive away the bestial curse of vampirism swirling through his blood. He kept his eyes fixed on the wooden palisades ahead. It was not much longer before his task would be finished.

When he came near, he jumped from the horse. It neighed in pain, and the sheer force toppled the creature to the ground. Galamon cleared the wooden stakes easily, crashing amidst some jars full of water. He heard screams from the houses beside him—they sounded loud, so sharp were his senses. He crawled away from the sunlight like a deranged spider, retreating further into the shadows.

He could smell blood all around him. The smell of the ocean wind carried it. He could smell it seeping into the wooden planks at the docks, could smell it in the earth, the grass… he kept his hand on his neck, squeezing tightly. The world seemed tinted red. Galamon kept to the shadows, waiting until the beast realized it was caged; that he owned it, not the other way around.

He heard rushed footfalls heading towards him, and with it, a scent of blood. He heard the heartbeat—frantic, fast, driven by fear and excitement.

“Galamon,” a voice called out. “Hot damn. I knew you could do it.”

It’s calling for me, Galamon noticed. The heartbeat is calling for me.

“Listen. I know that you just finished with that one thing, but I don't have time to mince words. Where are you? Damned dark back here. Could you come out?”

It wants me to come out. It’s not afraid of what might happen.

Galamon lunged forward towards the welcoming voice, throwing his helmet aside. He grasped the prey and fell on it. His sharp teeth sunk into something hot, and he drank. It tasted sweet—like a cup of water after traversing a desert, or a piece of meat after a long hunt. This was the best feeling, Galamon supposed.

His prey struggled with weak, vain hits at his side, pushing and struggling. Galamon did not care. He held on tightly, enjoying the blood. This seemed especially pure and powerful—a mages’ blood, he could tell. It had a faint tinge to it—magic in the blood.

“Think…” the voice whispered, struggling against Galamon.

Think of what? Galamon pondered.

“Would your family… want this?”

Galamon’s mind spun, and his world of red shattered. He looked down and saw his brother, battered and broken, bleeding from the neck. The image slowly faded, and Argrave’s face replaced his brother’s.

Galamon tossed Argrave away and leapt back, in panic. He slammed his back against the house’s wall. Argrave crawled away, holding his still-bleeding neck.

“By Veid… I-I…” Galamon gingerly reached forward. Argrave stared at him with hollow gray eyes.

#####

Argrave watched Galamon. The unshakable elf was, for the first time Argrave had ever seen, panicking. He tried to think of something witty to say, but his neck stung, and his brain felt like it had a heavy fog over it. Lethargy threatened to consume him, his breathing was too fast, and he felt dreadfully weak. He blinked and bit his lips, knowing that sleeping here might mean his death.

Galamon rushed forward, reaching into Argrave’s satchel. He pulled free a stamina potion, and then held it to Argrave’s lips with trembling fingers. Argrave caught it with his teeth and tilted his head back. It did not make the pain diminish, nor stop the bleeding, but it did allow him to regain his focus.

Argrave used the last of his magic to cast healing magic, sealing the wound. Galamon collapsed backwards, staring at Argrave with an all-too-complicated expression. Panic, fear, guilt, anger… it was a veritable salad of regret.

with a hoarse voice. “I knew you were

was not my intent to… the beast… it battered,

know,” said

his looked very

run one hell of a blood drive. I hope I’m the right blood type for the donor.” Argrave tried to stand, but he collapsed amidst a shattered pot. His muscles were

trying to help Argrave but hesitant to approach. It was very evident he was afraid of

a deep breath, and then looked around. “Came here to tell you

“But

all.” Argrave let out a low, dry laugh. “But seriously… go. The tomb guardians will kill us all if you don’t. Anneliese will explain things. Look for the beautiful woman with long white hair. Wait… you

I never… my wound just… the curse…”

I hired you. Stop talking. Move your feet. Make use of the blood I so graciously donated. You could probably use it better

ran to the gate as Argrave instructed. Argrave laid there, biting his

wild animals, just like vampires are killers. Argrave bent his knees, then placed his feet against

felt as weak as clouds, as though they could fail at any minute and send him crashing back to the ground. If I hadn’t been able to remember that Galamon’s family

passed the corner of the house and fell against a barrel, holding himself up shakily. Ahead, the tomb guardians were walking through the gate. Galamon and a few other snow elves were making short work of

of them… is doing it wrong. He’s in line of sight. He’s

from the barrel and go to them, but the barrel

#####

those men made of metal. The snow elf commander refused to allow them to participate, citing that they were not as strong as Veidimen. Ryles assumed ‘Veidimen’

to look at a horse. The wizard Argrave had ridden it into here, assumed the position of an advisor abruptly using the Mark of Monticci, and then enacted this ‘cooperation’ with the snow elves. The man had been willing to risk life and limb, so Ryles did not question that he came from the Duke’s orders. Now that things had proceeded

said quietly, staring at the

“Yes, Commander Ryles?”

the horse. “Take command. I am going to return

“What, sir? Why?”

what has transpired here. Something is off. Though the battle has been postponed, the

spurred it towards the gate opposite where they were doing battle with the metal creatures. He rode away, passing by the dead bodies left by the recently transpired

elves… perhaps it is not a coincidence. It is my duty to take this matter to the

#####

wake up!” a voice

open his

ready for school,”

to school,” Argrave answered. “I’m a fantasy

acting like a child,” the voice chided again. It was vaguely

was in the school courtyard. He had to go to gym class. He ran around, the environment shifting around

bleachers were made of stone. Argrave remembered he had to get something from the supply closet. He opened the door to the supply

Argrave walked closer to them. They turned their head. Their